In the Blink of an Eye
by Kameka
Summary: Just a quick little fic at the cabin before the Agents showed up. Set during the pilot. My first 4400 fic, just so you know. Angst is minor Orson really got a raw end of the deal, imho.


Title: In the Blink of an Eye

Author: Kameka

Rating: G

Disclaimers: Orson Bailey, Elizabeth Bailey, Maia, and other characters from the television series The 4400 do not belong to me. This was written purely for entertainment purposes and no money has been made.

Notes: I caught a season 2 ep then saw the season 1 DVDs on sale for $14 and change... Figured why not? Got them home, watched the pilot... and immediately got story ideas. I'm going on record to say that The 4400 is an evil show. This is (obviously) my first 4400 fic and I haven't watched much beyond the pilot, just to warn you. This had a quick read-through/beta done by Cassie. Thank you, Cassie.

Summary: Just a quick little fic at the cabin before the Agents showed up. Set during the pilot..

The cabin lay in shadows, the sun's rays weakened by the reach through ancient branches and paned glass windows. The natural dimming of light was something that the lone occupant welcomed. Even to him, a man for whom two and a half decades had passed in the blink of an eye, it had been years since he had come here. He hadn't expected the changes. Even seeing the changes that time had wrought on everything and everyone else... he had thought that he would find this cabin the same. A safe haven where his wife had played as a little girl, where he had escaped the busy city-life in the years of his marriage.

It was different. Drastically different. The furniture, while still geared towards comfort and family, were pieces that he had never seen before. The paint on the wood walls was a different color. Only the old upright piano that his wife had adored was still there, ivory keys now yellowed with age. The top was blank, no gallery of photographs taken of smiling family members.

But within the darkened room... he could try to forget the horrors of the past few months. There was no anger or fear, no wondering what else had happened in the world and how he would cope twenty-five years out of date. If he closed his eyes, he could hear her husky laugh, see the brilliance of her smile, feel the warm touch of her hand. He could also smell her perfume: the sweet scent of magnolias that had enveloped her. They were her favorite flower and he had brought them home by the thousands. Bouquets or a single bloom, they had both made her gentle eyes shine with pleasure.

The pounding in his head increased and he lost the tenuous thread with the past -- what was, for all intents and purposes, truly his present. His eyes snapped open and he cried out, as much from the physical pain and the emotional. The physical had been there for weeks. Ever since that little girl, Maia, had given him the Kleenex in quarantine... and moments later his nose had begun to bleed. It was normally a dull ache, flaring in times of extreme stress: when he was denied a job at the company which still bore his name; when he had been denied the basic respect of even being allowed to talk to a man he remembered clearly as a young upstart; when the agents had come to question him at the police station... When he had been informed that Elizabeth had passed on.

His darling Elizabeth. She had been eighteen when they had married, beautiful and innocent. She had been sheltered by loving, overprotective parents, the only girl with two older brothers. The youngest, the baby, always taken care of. He had always told her that she was strong, but she had scoffed, disbelieving in what he was so sure of. Their lack of children had been a serious blow to her, bringing a surety that she had failed him as a wife, failed herself as a woman. It had almost shattered her. But now he had proof that he'd always been correct.

She had survived without him. For two and a half decades she had lived alone, not knowing if he was dead or alive, if he had left by choice or not. God, he prayed that she never believed he had left voluntarily. She had to know better than that. She had waited for him, she'd told him in one of the rare moments of lucidity that she'd managed since he came back. For twenty-five long years, she had waited for him to return to her, knowing that he would eventually. And her faith had been rewarded: he had returned.

It wasn't fair! Why had he been taken? Why had the rest of the 4400? What gave those aliens or whatever they were the right to step in and take someone -- changing their lives and the lives of their families? For weeks he had tried to figure it out, tried to find some similarity between himself and everyone else. There had been nothing except the simple biological fact that they were Human. Orphans, family-centric, all blood types, different cultures, backgrounds, and experiences... All carefully chosen for an unknown reason.

It didn't matter anymore. Not to him. He had no one now. No real reason to live. His only one had left, abandoning him as surely as he had abandoned her all those years ago. That neither was the person's fault didn't help much.

The crunching of gravel caught his attention and he rose automatically. They were here, those agents from Homeland Security. He'd known that they would find him eventually; he'd just hoped to have a little more time to think. They'd take him away now, lock him in some underground facility and use him as a lab rat -- unless they decided he was too much trouble and just had him killed. He'd seen what they were capable of back in his time. God only knew what they could do now.

A shadow blocked the thin light coming through the window. Tom Baldwin was talking, trying some of that ridiculous pop psychology that hadn't changed in all the time he'd been gone. Where was the other one, the female? She'd been with him at the station. She had to be here, undoubtedly circling around, trying to find a way inside to sneak up on him. He'd seen a million cop shows. Didn't they know he was dangerous? Someone had to see it besides himself.

That little girl had known. Maia. She had to. She'd known before him about the nosebleed in quarantine. That meant she had to know about his ability. Ability? His curse, more like it. He wished she was here to tell him what would happen, what he should do. It would've been easier than fumbling in the dark.

A flash of memory struck him, its' clarity shining like a beacon. It wasn't of his life with Elizabeth, nor was it any clue as to where he had been, but it was important. An encounter with Maia the day that they had been released. He had been packing his few meager belongings, ruminating over everything he had learned while there, when she had come up to him.

"Don't worry," she'd said. When he'd asked about what, she had responded: "Your wife. You'll be with her again soon."

He had pushed it out of his mind, sure that she had overheard him talking to someone else. Of course he would see her soon -- he was finding a place to live and then going straight to her. But now it was all different. She hadn't said that he would see her soon, but that he would be with her. Now that Elizabeth was dead, that only left one option.

He shook off his stupor and stepped forward, away from the relative safety of the wall, still arguing with Agent Baldwin. He didn't need pity or placation. He needed his wife -- his life -- back. The walls began to shake, picture frames rattling and overhead lights swaying. The agent across from him winced, raising his hands to his head.

He wouldn't make her wait any longer. She had already spent far too much time alone.

A sharp pain exploded, bringing with it blessed relief and then darkness fell.

It was time... and he was finally home.

...The End...

Reviews are welcome.


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